"When gods wage war through men, there is no retreat—only the echo of faith against the storm.".
The Heart Unearthed
(Flashback — during the Fall of Manila)
The sky above the city bled red—an ominous testament to conquest. Towers leaned like dying sentinels, and the streets were interwoven with the ashes of the Anino ng mga Anito. Beneath the ruins, the Ahas ng mga Lakan descended into silence, led by their Serpent Emperor.
The Obsidian Chamber awaited them below—sealed, ancient, yet still exuding an aura of vitality.
Raja stood before its quivering gate, the Pamana ni Lakan sheathed at his side and the Haring Sawa coiled across his shoulders, a faint venomous light gliding over his armor.
"They concealed what the gods feared to lose," he declared. "And now we shall claim what they dared not keep."
The chamber pulsed—alive and aware. Its walls flickered with glyph veins that dimmed and brightened like a heartbeat ensnared in stone.
At the center of the room stood a runic console, its surface adorned with pulsating inscriptions and cables that delved deep into the obsidian floor.
Maximo Imperial sat before it, the glow of his Glyph Keyboard illuminating his lenses as he connected its interface nodes to the console's ports.
"Divine encryption lattice," he muttered. "Threefold structure—mythic, human, and something else." His fingers danced over the keyboard. "The system is… breathing."
Shinken Amakiri observed from behind, his tone steady. "Then awaken it."
Phaya Khamdee, commander of the Fang of the Naga—a syndicate of relic assassins—folded his arms. "If it resists, it won't be fair."
Maximo smirked. "Neither do I."
He tapped the final sequence—deliberate and rhythmic. The console's runes brightened, light bleeding through its veins as a low hum enveloped the chamber. The Glyph Keyboard resonated in harmony; the entire floor trembled as circuits of mythic energy rearranged themselves into coherent streams of light.
Raja's hand brushed the Pamana's hilt, the relic vibrating faintly in response, its dormant pulse mirroring the chamber's rhythm. The scent of ozone thickened in the air.
"Let it speak," Raja commanded.
The console responded. Light erupted outward—streams of gold and crimson curling upward into a spiral that filled the chamber.
From its core, a sigil sphere unfolded, spinning slowly and mercilessly.
Baybayin characters flared to life, aligning and locking into a single phrase:
HEART OF BATHALA — CURRENT LOCATION: NEW MALACAÑANG.
The sound faded, leaving only the echo of a divine heartbeat.
Maximo exhaled, the glow of the runes dimming across his hands. "They have relocated it. The Heart's purpose is to seal gods within it and wield their powers."
A sharp silence fell, as piercing as the edge of a relic blade.
Shinken's tone hardened. "To imprison divinity itself…"
Khamdee's voice followed, grim and resolute. "Whoever commands the Heart commands the heavens."
Raja stepped closer, his reflection glowing within the sphere's light. The Haring Sawa shifted, its mirrored scales capturing every flicker of crimson radiance. "Then we shall claim the heavens as our own."
Turning to his allies, his voice was calm and authoritative.
"Khamdee. Summon your serpent divisions. I want Cobra Sigil Assassins and Naga conscripts mobilized before dawn."
His gaze shifted to Shinken. "Contact the Orochi Syndicate. Their ships must shadow Malacañang by daybreak."
The Glyph Keyboard's light dimmed; the console went dark, its runes fading into silence. The pulse beneath the floor slowed, steady and ancient.
Raja's fingers lingered on the Pamana ni Lakan, the serpent relic whispering in the dark.
"The gods left their heart behind," he murmured. "Let us remind them for whom it beats."
The chamber sealed itself once more.
Above, the conquered city lay in slumber beneath crimson clouds—unaware that its heart had already been claimed.
The Veiled Convoy
(Flashback — during the relocation of the Heart of Bathala to the Capital City of Bulakan)
Rain relentlessly pounded the highway, drowning the world in a cacophony of motion and sound.
Convoy lights blazed through the storm, their reflections shimmering on the flooded asphalt like drifting stars.
The procession of transports bore the sigil of the Anino ng mga Anito, their fortified chassis humming with divine containment energy.
From a fractured overpass above, Magdalena Ramos crouched low, her breath steady, her gaze unwavering.
The Tanikala ng Guni-guni coiled loosely around her wrists, its phantom links pulsing in harmony with the thunder.
She leapt.
Wind roared in her ears as she descended through the rain, the Tanikala snapping outward to secure her fall.
She swung between the columns of vehicles, the chain flaring brightly before dissolving into refracted mist.
Her boots collided with the moving steel of a carrier roof; an illusion field blossomed instantly—dozens of mirrored Magdalenas racing across the convoy in a blurred reflection.
Scanners emitted false readings.
Anino escorts raised their weapons, firing into the apparitions.
The real Magda darted forward—low, silent, rain cascading down her face.
She was one vehicle away from the lead when a voice, quiet yet commanding, sliced through the storm.
"You should have kept your eyes closed, Director."
The words froze her mid-stride.
That voice—calm, deliberate, merciless.
Emerging through the rainlight was a woman she knew all too well:
Governor Lakambini Reyes.
The Abaniko ni Urduja glowed faintly in her grasp, its etched sigils bending rain and air into disciplined arcs around her.
Lightning illuminated her silhouette, casting her in silver and authority.
"Governor…" Magda breathed, disbelief cutting through the rain.
Lakambini's gaze remained steady, inscrutable. "You should have stayed in the shadows, Ramos."
The fan snapped open, scattering droplets into luminous arcs.
Magda moved first.
Her Tanikala lashed in a blur, weaving complex rhythmic patterns—cross-strikes, rapid reversals, a rain-drenched sinawali of chain and illusion.
Lakambini met her halfway, the fan folding and unfolding with precise cadence as she shifted her body in compact steps, redirecting every angle of attack.
Chains wrapped around her arm; she spun with it, pulling Magda forward and countering with a fan strike to the ribs. Magda absorbed the blow, twisted her elbow, and broke free with a short hook strike.
Rain and wind blurred their silhouettes, the storm itself responding to their clash.
The convoy trembled as each woman's movements carved brief silence from the chaos.
Lakambini advanced—fan closing. She struck in a burst: backhand, thrust, downward arc.
Magda countered with angular deflections, stepping within range, her chain flowing from hand to hand, redirecting momentum into circular traps.
Their motions collided—Filipino Martial Arts rhythm meeting divine precision.
Magda trapped Lakambini's arm, driving a knee upward—blocked. Lakambini pivoted her hip, turned the lock, and brought the fan's spine crashing against Magda's shoulder.
Both slid apart, boots screeching on the slick steel.
Magda's illusions flared again, three doppelgangers charging from different angles.
Lakambini exhaled. The fan opened wide—Abaniko ni Urduja humming with the sound of wind ready to break.
"Enough."
A pulse of compressed air erupted outward, creating a perfect circle of pressure and divinity.
Magda's illusions shattered like glass. The force slammed into her chest, lifting her bodily from the roof and hurling her backward through the storm.
She struck the edge of a trailing transport, rolled, and fell—rain enveloping her descent.
The Tanikala coiled instinctively, slowing her fall before releasing.
She landed hard on the flooded highway, sliding to a stop.
Her breathing steadied. Rising—drenched yet unbroken.
Above, the convoy continued its march into the distance.
Magda stared after it, rain streaking down her face.
"Governor Lakambini… an Anino ng mga Anito?"
The question escaped her as a whisper, part realization, part betrayal.
Her commlink crackled to life.
"Magdalena," came Hermano Lopez's calm voice through the static.
"She's with it," Magda replied quietly. "The Heart is secured, moving toward Bulakan. Reyes commands the escort."
"Then the gods have chosen poorly," Hermano retorted, his tone sharpening.
"All Babaylan units—mobilize. We reclaim what is ours."
Lightning crawled across the clouds, illuminating Magda's reflection in the water—a thousand fractured selves whispering in the flood.
She whispered to the storm,
"Bathala's heart belongs to His chosen."
The thunder responded.
Clash of Factions - Now
From three horizons, destiny converged upon the seething heart of Bulakan.
From the north, the Sandata Unit surged through the tempest—Kabalyero rumbling across fractured highways, violet glyph-light etching a blazing scar through the monsoon.
From the east, the Ahas ng mga Lakan advanced—Bakawan convoys slicing through inundated streets, rune-engines roaring like unbound serpents.
And from the south, the Babaylan Saints entered on foot, their formation disciplined and resolute. Each synchronized step cracked the sodden earth, relic light pulsing like the footsteps of deities.
Four forces converged that night.
Three sought conquest—one was forged for war.
And deep beneath the fractured plaza stones, the Engineered Anino ng mga Anito Relic Wielders lay in wait—synthetic horrors crafted from shattered divine code.
The Capital Plaza transformed into a crucible. The air thickened until even lightning struggled to breathe.
Gregorio's voice sliced through the static.
"Kabalyero—Combat Mode. Authorization: Captain Kamay."
The cruiser unfolded, Gatlings roaring to life. Runes along its sides illuminated the plaza in violet stormfire as tracer sigils carved molten paths through enemy ranks.
He vaulted down, Kamay ni Bathala whirling in arcs of violet. "Kisap Mata."
The world folded.
He blinked forward—three afterimages, three punches. The first severed an Anino's arm, the second shattered its mask, and the third struck its core. The explosion sent relic shards scattering like glass rain.
Marian landed beside him, Sundang ni Makiling exhaling fog—Mist Step, Goddess' Wrath, each strike invisible until steel caught the light. Her blade found gaps in armor, opening them like petals.
Agosto leapt over the wreckage of a collapsed jeepney, Kampilan blazing molten red. He twisted midair, one hand gripping the blade as it cracked the ground—Volcanic Crescent! The ensuing blast engulfed the street, launching debris skyward in a pillar of flame.
Renato charged through the smoke, Kalasag ni Bernardo Carpio expanding into its mirrored form. "Wall of the Giants!" The prism barrier caught collapsing concrete mid-fall, redirecting the fragments like bullets and crushing an Anino platoon beneath their own rubble.
The ground quaked—
and the Babaylan emerged through the southern boulevard, their march synchronized to thunder.
Luciano was first to strike.
"Habagat Thrust!"
Wind spiraled down his trident, carving a horizontal vacuum that sent Anino and debris flying. He spun the weapon, twisting his hips into the motion—Razor Hurricane! A cyclone erupted from his core, snapping lamp posts like reeds.
Beside him, Magdalena's chains flared. Memory Coil! Six spectral bindings slashed outward, snaring three foes by their necks and snapping them mid-spin. She pivoted, rolled through the downpour, and lunged again—Dream Fracture Assault! Reality splintered into mirrored shards around her, each reflecting her motion a fraction late, confusing the enemy's targeting glyphs.
Mia Torre floated pages of scripture around her—Aklat ng Katotohanan pulsing with blue-white light. "Truth Script Burst!" The pages detonated outward, tearing apart the fog of illusion and searing glyph-marked runes into the plaza stones.
Hermano Lopez followed closely, Banal na Parusa flaring gold. "Chain of Heaven!"
Golden links struck the flooded marble, ensnaring two Anino mid-leap. He swung his relic overhead—Judgment Smite!—and the plaza ignited in divine fire.
From the east, Raja's convoys arrived like a roaring inferno.
"Hydra Coil—Deploy!"
Seven serpents of venom and light erupted from Haring Sawa, annihilating an Anino phalanx in one synchronized strike. Their bodies arched high, reflections flickering against rain-slick towers.
Kalawit leapt atop a fallen light pole, his Dugong Itim spinning in full rotation. "Runic Ignition!" Red flames whirled in crescents, shredding silhouettes in half before collapsing into themselves.
"Orb Containment!" he followed, summoning a dark sphere that inhaled the remaining embers and debris before collapsing with a bass-drum shockwave.
Putik and Natalia raced through the wreckage—one leaving trails of molten gold from Katrayduran, the other splitting into spectral twins from Kasakiman.
"Hunger Twins!" Natalia's karambits flashed, slicing through the Anino Forces. "Cross pattern—execute!" Putik hurled exploding balisongs into her twin shadows, forming a spiral of light that erased the Anino Relic Wielding pretenders.
Maximo crouched atop a tilted billboard, raindrops sliding down his flute.
"Echo Veil," he murmured.
Sound folded the air. Bullets and relic rounds rebounded off an invisible rhythm as he blew compressed mana darts—each projectile twisting, bouncing, detonating at precise intervals.
CHAOS UNBOUND
The factions collided.
Sandata's precision, Babaylan's discipline, Ahas' aggression—and the relentless, shifting tide of the Engineered Anino.
Gregorio's Godfist Strike met Raja's Venomous Ripple midair—two mythic forces colliding like stars. The blast cracked the central obelisk in half and scattered molten glyphs into the sky.
"Kamay ni Bathala," Hermano shouted from across the ruin. "Stand with us or perish between us!"
Gregorio's afterimages fanned behind him.
"I am not between," he replied. "I am the storm."
Luciano's wind surged—pushing both Anino and Sandata back as he spun his trident into a reverse cyclone.
"Habagat Shield—Reform!"
The wind wall caught fragments of concrete mid-flight, but Kalawit broke through with a single Void Slash, sending the air itself into implosion.
Marian phased through the mist, striking Hermano's golden chains—sparks flew, mist coiling around divine flame.
"Your chains burn too brightly," she said quietly. "They blind even you."
Hermano answered, eyes calm. "Then may I burn brighter still."
He raised Banal na Parusa, and his chains lashed outward like divine whips. They struck the ground, cracking open sigil lines that illuminated the plaza in gold.
Raja's serpents lunged to consume them.
Marian's fog twisted, suffocating their fangs mid-strike.
Switch to Agosto. His Kampilan split the rain.
"Dimensional Rift Slash!"
He drove his sword downward, tearing space into a burning seam beneath the advancing Anino. The tear sucked them inward, their distorted forms flickering out of existence.
From above, Luciano's wind redirected a collapsing column toward him. Agosto spun, cutting the debris midair before it could strike his allies.
"Nice catch," Gregorio's voice came through the static.
"Call that one teamwork," Agosto smirked, reentering stance.
Switch to Magdalena.
She ducked beneath a collapsing skywalk, rain blurring her vision.
The world shimmered into illusion—her own creation. Phantom reflections of her danced beside her, their chains whistling in counterpoint.
A lone Anino, still functional, lunged from the fog—its claw ripping through a reflection before hitting the real Magdalena.
It passed through her. Illusion.
She appeared behind it, whispering, "Dream Fracture."
The creature's eyes turned white before it burst into mirrored dust.
A single civilian survivor, bloodied and dazed, crawled beneath a toppled jeep.
Through the shattered windshield, he beheld gods and monsters exchanging blows.
Lightning illuminated their silhouettes—one cloaked in mist, another bound by gold, serpents spiraling in defiance, and a man enveloped in violet flame defying the storm itself.
He pressed his trembling hands over his ears as the Kabalyero's Gatlings roared, raining thunder down the avenue.
He whispered a prayer—but even that was drowned by divine warfare.
When he looked up, the reflection of a serpent flickered across a puddle beside him. He couldn't discern whether it was real—or if the gods were contending over something no mortal should ever witness.
Returning to the field. The plaza no longer resembled a city center.
The ground was a wound of molten stone and fractured sigils.
Buildings leaned inward, their steel frames glowing red. Water from broken mains hissed into steam upon contact with relic flames.
Gregorio darted between collapsing girders, Kamay striking in perfect rhythm.Each punch echoed like a temple bell.
Agosto followed, his blade tracing molten arcs that sealed off Anino reinforcements.
Renato braced the Kalasag overhead as an entire radio tower fell—Heaven's Mirror reflecting the impact skyward before shattering into a thousand shards of light.
Marian's mist refilled the air, obscuring their movements once again.
Raja and his elites surged forward, serpents coiling around crumbling ruins.
Kalawit's Void Clash detonated, hurling both Babaylan and Anino aside.
Putik and Natalia danced between explosions, their bikes leaping debris fields like hunters amid flame.
"Forward!" Raja roared. "Claim what's ours!"
Hermano's voice thundered over the comms:
"The Heart does not belong to serpents!"
"Nor to saints," Gregorio answered through the smoke.
Their relics responded for them—
Kamay ni Bathala, Banal na Parusa, Haring Sawa—
each blazing like separate suns, their auras engulfing the plaza in violet, gold, and crimson fire.
Crispulo's Takip-Silim screamed across the boulevard, shadow phantoms splitting off to flank Raja's serpents.
Luciano's Heaven's Hammer struck a crater into the eastern avenue, lightning surging through sewer lines.
Mia's Illusion Corridors folded the battlefield into mirrored halls, trapping half the Anino within recursive geometry.
Kalawit's scythe sliced through the reflections, freeing the trapped only to impale them mid-fall.
The air howled.
Lightning flashed.
Every breath was war.
Then—silence.
The storm dimmed. The earth groaned.
From the cracks of the plaza, molten light pulsed.
The Grand Gates of New Malacañang opened.
Three silhouettes emerged through the smoke, walking as if the storm parted for them.
Senator Datu Alon.
General Ramon Dimagiba.
Governor Lakambini Reyes.
Their footsteps echoed against the fractured marble, and even the thunder dared not speak.
Raja's serpents fell still.
Hermano's chains lowered.
Gregorio's afterimages faded.
The Anino froze, their red eyes flickering uncertainly.
Lakambini stepped forward, her hair whipping in the wind, the faint shimmer of the Abaniko ni Urduja reflected in the lightning.
Her voice was calm, precise, sovereign.
"The Heart of Bathala is awake."
The heavens split open—
light and thunder responding to her decree.
Every relic on the field began to hum in resonance.
The war paused.
But the world itself shuddered—for what stirred beneath the Capital was no longer asleep.